Rise of a King
by BlinkzTwice
Summary: Son of Susan the Gentle and Caspian X, William Pevensie knows no more of his mother's backstory than what of those that were told to him by his grandmother. Narnia, without a king, is thrown into war yet again. With great power comes with great responsibility, something that William himself is not sure if he has or wants.
1. Chapter 1

_As per usual, all right are owned by C.S. Lewis. I am simply borrowing his characters to create something with my own little flair. This takes place within an AU, where the three Pevensie children have died in that fated trainwreck. Susan is now the only Pevensie sibling alive. But her son, an illegitimate son between her and Caspian must now take on the journey to continue the traditions of his mother and uncles and aunt. He needs to reunite Susan with the others, but before that, he must find out who he is, and what kind of man he wants to become._

Chapter 1:

Year: 1962

Destination: A suburban area within New York

He came home with a black eye again; the corners of his lips swelled up in a reddish-purple color and a cut was still bleeding on the corner of his right eye. William had to restrain himself from grunting in pain as he snuck in from the backyard and climbed through a low window that led to the living room of the house. His left leg felt a spark of pain as he tried to swing it around the open window; he dearly hoped it wasn't broken.

The floors creaked mercilessly as he tiptoed (or tried to, at least) around the furnitures towards the staircase. Will thought of the excuses he needed to come up by tomorrow morning. His mom would surely not approve of his unsightly state and would definitely call up the principal of his school the moment she realized that he had been in a fist fight again.

Will breathed in deeply as he steadied his footsteps, he had to control the weight of his walking. There was nothing better than to wake up the whole house at two in the morning and surprise everyone with his battered face.

Unfortunately, life had other plans. He was so _very_ close to said staircase when he heard a high-pitched "ahem". All was over, the living room lights flashed to life and William groaned in defeat: she had been waiting for him all this time. He was ready for a long day.

Sizzling on the lounging couch was his mother, his very, understandably angry mother.

"Where were you?" Susan's voice was like steel. Will gulped and tried to avoid her electrifying blue gaze. They shone bright with worry and fury, glaring daggers at him. Although he himself had inherited her icy blue eyes, he never could paralyze anyone with them, no matter how hard he tried.

 _Crap._ Now he had to think of an alibi right now.

Will cleared his throat, bit back a wince, and lied, "I got lost and fell through a wooden bridge somewhere back at the creaks in the park. It was dark when I was there so..."

His lies, as per usual, did nothing to save him from Susan's wrath, because, well, they sucked.

"William Casper Pevensie." His mother said through gritted teeth, "Do not lie to me."

The little bit of hope of even getting through the night vanished from Will's head. She wasn't going to let this go anymore.

He sighed in defeat. "They called me a scoundrel." It was true. Alex Simpleton from his Geometry and Algebra class had decided to spill ink in his sketching notebook and then managed to get two of his buddies to write said insult on his homework.

"So you fought them?" Susan asked. " Why must everything be solved with violence in your book? Why couldn't you just be the better person, William? Just tell your teacher!"

"Because that doesn't work, mom!" He was shouting now, frustrated with her and everything. "Mr. Cogswell had to tell them like four times! He doesn't do anything other than make us apologize like idiots!"

Susan lifted a hand to her face, and Will could almost see tears gathering in her eyes.

"And that wasn't the only thing they did to me." He was indignant now, he almost felt betrayed. How could his own mother, out of all people, think that he was in the wrong when he wasn't?

"They called you a common whore, mom." His voice broke. "They said that because of me, you will never have the chance to be proper again." He had to hold himself in, he couldn't cry, not in front of her, not anymore.

Slowly, Susan rose from her seat. She walked up to the shaking Will. He thought of the things she would say to him. Probably more reprimands about his supposedly 'volatile' behavior and whatnot. He thought of just turning around and limping to his room, but he decided against it. He didn't want to provoke her already upset emotions any further.

He was suddenly enveloped in her arms. Will stilled; it was a surprise indeed. His mother was shaking, too. It did not take him long to realize that she was sobbing quietly. Will's resolve to keep his heart hard went out the window the moment he felt the first sobs escaped her. This was all his fault, if he hadn't continued the fight with Alex, then his mother would not have seen him at this lowly state, and she would not have felt so bad about her predicament.

For a long moment, he felt like dirt.

"I'm sorry, mom." He croaked, "I really am."

Susan released him. She stepped back and smiled. "It's ok, Will. I'm sorry, too."

Ashamed, he looked down at his shoes. He didn't just feel like dirt, he felt like shit now. His mother assessed him from head to toe and sighed again.

"Come on, honey. We need to go get your cuts cleaned up and leg checked. We'll go see Dr. Henry tomorrow if it looks broken, okay?" He nodded languidly as she helped him up the stairs.

That night, he couldn't sleep at all. All he could think of was his mother's cries and that one specific sketch he had drawn that was now covered with dark ink.


	2. Chapter 2: A Sketch

Chapter 2

It turned out that his left knee was just sprained. Will could practically sense his mother let out a breath of relief as he sat waiting in the clinic halls. He cursed the line he had to wait in order to see his physician. But no matter.

From his leather satchel, he pulled out a new sketchbook. He fumed at the thought at losing all his other work to that damned classmate of his, but he had no choice. Susan was not going to let him get away so easily again if he chose to retaliate against his bullies.

Ignoring the thoughts about everything else, Will tried to concentrate. He had been sketching this particular picture ever since he had a nightmare about falling and hearing a lion's roar. It was a silly dream, but he had seen something he could never forget even if he wanted to.

He couldn't put a finger as to what he saw, it was like his body was possessed, something was dragging his fingers to his pens. Will scribbled fervently, paying no heed to the onlooking stranger gaping at the crazed boy.

Yes, the color was ivory white, with a lion's bust decorating the end. It was so ancient. It looked like a horn...Yes!

Will wasn't even sure if he was thinking straight anymore. His hands were moving so fast before his eyes like automated power looms in factories. Sweat was building across his forehead as he felt the tension radiating from his body.

It was a horn, but it was not like any other horn he has ever seen. It was majestic in appearance, with blurry writing carved into the crevices. The object was almost surreal like it was a sacred item only found in old archeology textbooks. William squinted; the letters weren't in English. Weird alternate forms of the alphabet embellished around the lion's bust.

William tried to remember the last time he saw one of these examples. English class? Literature discussions? He must have seen them somewhere as they looked somewhat familiar. Then it clicked.

Latin. It is Latin. His eyes widened, he never learned the language, yet he could write it? Even if it was subconscious, he still wrote it. It couldn't be possible.

"Will, what are you doing?" The familiar voice of his mother broke through his train of thought, and he jerked his head back up at her. Susan was glancing down at her son, brows knitted together in curiosity.

Will swallowed, and like an instinctive impulse, tried to tuck the sketch away from her sight. But Susan's hand was faster. Her fingers caught onto the paper and tugged it towards her. Will cleared his throat nervously and looked away from her gaze.

His mother looked at the sketch for a long time, eyes never blinking. Then she looked back at him, and then back at the painting again. Will had always thought that his mother's emotions were shown through her eyes, but this was, arguably, the first time that the blue depths showed nothing but a blank canvas.

For a second, Susan's expressionless face scared him. Will raised a hand to shake her from her supposed trance, only to be surprised when a spark of realization ignited within her gaze.

She sat down next to him, a sad smile slowly growing on her face. "Will, where did you see this item?"

Well, he never saw the horn exactly. It all happened in his head, and he wasn't even fully aware of himself drawing it in the first place. How was he supposed to convey that to her? Hey mom, I'm possessed? She would think he was crazy.

"It just popped up in my thoughts. I designed it...Thought it looked cool." He shrugged his shoulders, trying to appear as casual as possible. However, he couldn't stop his fingers from twirling.

The look from his mother made it clear to him that he shouldn't even try to deceive her again. His pathetic efforts were futile against her genius brain.

Will groaned. "It came to me in a dream. I don't even know that much either. I just know that as I was falling to my death, there was a lion's roar and this appeared in my vision."

Silence followed his words; Susan was just staring at him, stunned. He shrugged his shoulders again, trying to shake off the awkward quietness.

"It's nothing really, mom. Relax, everything is fine."

"It's not." Her reply was short and brisk as if something had insulted her. He flinched at her sharp tone, causing her to soften. "I'm sorry, honey. I didn't mean to sound angry. I'm just stressed." She smiled her gentle smile, the one that always calmed Will and made him feel safe.

He stood up and grinned back. "No worries, mom. It's just a silly sketch anyway. And we should probably get going now, I got classes in the afternoon."

Susan stuttered, looking embarrassed by her actions. "Oh, r-right! I almost forgot about that! I'm so sorry. Why don't you go back to school right now, honey? I still have some errands I need to run."

Will took note of her sudden nervousness but thought nothing of it.

He smiled. "Yeah, alright. I'll see you later, mum." She rose and gave him a quick peck on the cheek before turning around and walking away so fast that he thought her legs were going to fly off.

In an instant, Will's mind was formulating reasons as to why his mother's composed demeanor was suddenly so skittish and jumpy. It couldn't be because of the sketch, right?

As if on cue, his fingers twitched again, trying to drag him to his pencil pouch. Eyes wide with horror, Will grasped his right hand, praying for the sensation to go away.

Much to his dismay and frustration, the pulling feeling wouldn't budge. He growled, angry at the stupidity of the situation. It was like a magnetic force pulling him to the sketch; he couldn't resist the temptation.

Everything around him became a blur. Will couldn't even focus on the words a nearby nurse was saying to him. She shook him gently and mouthed things that he couldn't hear.

He cried out at her touch. There was pain now, surging from his hand to head. The force appeared to be almost angry with him. Will howled. The searing pain in his arms made him want to rip apart his white cotton shirt and dump buckets of ice-cold water onto them.

Help me... The thoughts swirled around in his head like flies, never properly formulating. He heard himself scream for his agony but receiving no reply from anything at all.

Then he heard it: the voices, barely whispers, not coming from the people around him, but seemingly from the force itself.

Will strained to listen, but it was too fast. A slew of words rung in his ears.

"Mortem. Mors lu..cem...Basileus de Narnia...Ba-basil…"

"SHUT UP!" The shout ripped from his throat before he even caught himself. He was going crazy, he really was going crazy.

In an instant, almost like on cue, the whispers were cut off, taking the hot pain in his arms with them. Will staggered forward, then proceeded to slump onto the hard wooden ground of the hospital.

This time around, he did hear the nurse screaming. He could hear the sounds of wheels skittering across the white hallways with an army of footsteps clattering towards him. It was fucking loud.

The nurse was still screaming, and he had so wanted to get up and tell her to be quiet as well. His ears were ringing, his arms were numb, and his eyes felt oh so heavy.

Arms were tugging at his shoulder and legs, and the last thing Will saw before seeing nothing more was a pair of dark eyes, with a long scar running across the sides of one of them.


End file.
